


Flinch

by Distant_hysterical_laughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, What's sexier than wizards? NOTHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Distant_hysterical_laughter/pseuds/Distant_hysterical_laughter
Summary: Caleb Widowgast has not had the best experience with teachers so when he studies with Essek, his subconscious does not agree that he won't be hurt.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 11
Kudos: 253





	Flinch

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely inspired by multishipperlove on tumblr's post (https://multishipperlove.tumblr.com/post/189122660602/i-need-an-angsty-fic-about-caleb-and-his-feelings)  
> I don't know if this has been done before, but I was inspired and a wrote it so I figured why not share it.

When Caleb asked  Essek to teach him he knew what he was getting into. Well, for the most part. He’s had tutors in the past, but those tutoring sessions were usually initiated by his failures. If his somatic movements were too sloppy, his wrists were gripped to the point of bruising and forced through the movements until they were  _ perfect _ . If the verbal elements were a bit too accented, a strong grip pried open his jaw to examine exactly how his mouth was forming the words and he repeated and repeated the sounds until his voice was rasping but the words were  _ clear  _ and annunciated _ correctly _ . Caleb’s eidetic memory never let him forget his material components, but he’d seen other students come back from a lesson with hands stained with bat shit and ash. 

To say that Caleb ever  _ enjoyed _ those sessions would be an outright lie.  So, when he found himself looking forward to the next time  Essek would float over, he was at a loss. Caleb has always liked learning new things, especially when magic was involved, but his past experiences with teachers haven’t always been... the best. 

Essek , of course, is completely unaware of this. Caleb could tell him, he  _ should _ tell him, he just can’t get into one aspect without revealing... everything else. While Caleb trusts the  Shadowhand with certain aspects of life (teaching  dunamancy , political discussions, teleporting the  nein , etc.) he is not thrilled by the thought of spilling his life’s story to the  drow .

Essek is much gentler than any tutor Caleb’s ever had previously, but that doesn’t stop his subconscious from making him flinching when a perfectly manicured purple hand lays atop his own to lead him through the somatic component of a new spell. It’s stupid, idiotic even. Caleb  _ k _ _ nows _ Essek won’t hurt him. If the  Shadowhand wanted to hurt him, he’d already be disposed of on the floor of the study.

It’s only ever small things, certain touches in certain spots, that trigger this response. A gentle hold on Caleb’s wrist has him suppressing a full-body flinch, a light brush along the jaw sees the ginger opening his mouth and tensing up instinctually. At one point the  drow had accidentally bumped his elbow against one of the other wizard’s bandaged forearms a bit too hard and Caleb’s flight or fight response kicked in, pushing the chair back from the table so he could stand in an instant, one hand readied to go through the ingrained motions of casting and the other hovering over the material pouches on his hip.

Actually, to amend his previous statement,  Essek is not  _ completely  _ unaware, or else the two wizards would not currently be having this conversation.

“When, exactly, did I prove to be so untrustworthy?” is what the  Shadowhand interrupts the comfortable quiet that had previously been hanging in the room with.

“Was?” the ginger caster startles, looking up from his spellbook to send a  quizzical look in  Essek’s direction.

“I know I am a wizard of great natural talent and practiced skill,”  Essek elaborates, “but what did I do to make you fear me so?”

“I- I don’t- well, I suppose you are quite formidable, but I don’t  _ fear _ you.” Caleb clarifies. He fiddles with his hands resting on his spellbook, not looking the drow in the eyes.

“Oh?”  Essek raises a single white eyebrow. “Formidable, am I?"

“Ja. That is- ah- a part of the reason I am glad we are on the same side.” 

“But you are quite formidable yourself, no?”  Essek says, scanning the human up and down.

“I was not meaning to discredit my own talents Herr  Thelyss .” Caleb tilts his head and shifts his attention up to the man next to him.

“I suppose not,” the  Shadowhand chuckles, “I only inquire because of... well, this.” As he speaks those words one hand gently, only ever gently, places itself on the  Zemnian’s wrist in a loose grip with thumb and forefinger. Caleb tenses, but suppresses the violent flinch his body had wanted to act upon. 

“You say you are not afraid,”  Essek continues, “but that is a response of deeply ingrained terror. I am not going to hurt you, Caleb.”

“I __ know this. It is the matter of years of the opposite being true.” Caleb starts quietly “Not by your hand, of course,” he clarifies quickly, “but by... others that have... taught me.”

“Your teachers have hurt you.” It’s less of a question and more a statement. There is a quick glint of something dangerous in the  Shadowhand’s eyes. Not directed at the other wizard, but at the idea of a trusted adult hurting  ~~ his ~~ a student  ~~ more than just a student ~~ .

“... ja.” comes the  hesitant response.

Essek flips the other man’s hand and starts to brush his thumb back and forth across the freckled skin of Caleb’s wrist. The touch is soft, tentative, ready to pull away at any sign of discomfort. The ginger’s eyes flick down to the movement and follow the slow arc of the thumb. 

“Whatever has happened to you in the past will not repeat itself in the future. I find it appalling that that ever happened to you at any point.”  Essek states firmly.

“I suppose you would know...” Caleb starts, still tracing the small movement with his eyes, “time is your specialty after all.”

“Indeed, it is.” the  drow agrees easily, slowly lifting the human’s hand. Caleb wordlessly tilts his head but doesn’t pull his hand back. The human wizard continues to track the  Shadowhand’s movements with his eyes and watches as the  drow brings his wrist up to his mouth.  Essek’s lips lightly brush the ginger’s wrist in a soft kiss, silver eyes locking with bright blue ones. “So, trust me, at least with this.”

“Okay.” Caleb breathlessly whispers.


End file.
